


Connotations

by yelloweyes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Awkward Cas is Awkward, Inspired by Art (link in the notes), M/M, Sam is not as bad of a flirt as Dean would probably anticipate, Victorian era!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 08:53:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14281374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yelloweyes/pseuds/yelloweyes
Summary: Castiel Novak meets Sam Winchester by chance alone and shares a brief conversation; perhaps there is more to come out of it than Castiel initially anticipated.





	Connotations

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading!
> 
> This entire fic is based on a beautiful piece of art by "yifera" (this is both yifera's Tumblr URL and Ao3 name). Find it here: http:// yifera.tumblr .com/post/172621461212/sastiel-creations-challenge-yifera-theme-au (but without the spaces). No seriously, please check it out. It’s more gorgeous than anything I could ever write. 
> 
> Last but not least, an important thank you goes to this fic’s beta, smolstiel (this is just her Tumblr URL, I think), who not only is a good part of why this fic even has a title and decent summary but is also the one who helped make this fic worth reading in big ways.

_Have a nice day._

Castiel Novak had heard and uttered the phrase many times. In his neighborhood – the richer, politer, more passive-aggressive part of the city – it was practically slung around like a small child’s stuffed toy as the farewell for any context.

When passing by a neighbor or family member briefly,  _have a nice day_. After requesting something from the help,  _have a nice day_. When attempting to exit any conversation at a party, it was  _have a nice evening_ , and it would have to be stated at least three times before escape was finally within reach. When finally walking away from a heated discussion with one of his brothers, after voices finally started to lower again –  _have a nice day_.

Castiel had never once heard the civil goodbye sound so very… welcoming.

Of course, the one time he did would be on the invisible line of the city between the upper classes and the slums. Castiel wouldn’t even have gone if it were not for cruelties of necessity. A business transaction had demanded it. Mr. Crowley had refused to sell ownership of one of his factories to the Novak family in any other location than his own office; a representative was required. Castiel, as always, was handed the dirty work.

So Castiel had put on a fairly nice outfit with his favored beige coat – the one his mother hated the most – grabbed his hat and walked, on his own. He could have taken a carriage, which included the constant, dutiful reminder of Samandriel, but he only liked the usage of horses for transportation if he was directly riding them. So he walked on, avoiding the shaking heads of his carriage-adoring family as he exited the manor, squinting a bit at Miss Meg when she attempted to invite him over for tea, and some ‘deeper appreciation for furniture arrangement’ as he passed her by ( _Have a nice day, mademoiselle_ ), and braving the short journey ahead.

Would walking make him late to meeting Mr. Crowley? Yes. Would the weasel still sell? As soon as he was threatened with the possibility of the Novak family buying property from a certain rival instead, yes.

Castiel straightened his hat with one hand as he delved into town, strolling along the cobbled paths with his eyes set directly forwards as a man on one mission. The chatter of London surrounded him as he went, the clopping and rolling of horses pulling carriages through the streets harmonizing with the babbling of strangers going by. He ignored it all. 

He would have continued doing so if someone only a yard or so to his left pulled his eyes away from their target.

Castiel had never considered himself prone to distractions.

The someone was a rugged young man, sitting on the porch of a two-story house that was too nice to belong to him, perhaps for him to even live in, wearing a shirt that may have at some point been white, a gray cap, and worn out trousers that showcased an impressively long pair of legs splayed over the two steps. Castiel had to be at least a year his senior, but it was evident that the man ahead of him was at least four or five inches taller, despite Castiel’s already fairly impressive height.

Their eyes met and locked together for a passing moment. Castiel managed a polite nod in the stranger’s direction, keeping his feet moving ahead.

A smile crept onto the young man’s dirt-smudged face as he reached up to tip his cap. “Have a nice day.”

There was something about the man’s warm tone – something that was certainly not expecting Castiel to just carry on with his day, something that was definitely almost maybe wanting Castiel to stick around – that caused him to hang back for a few moments rather than continue on. There was something about the way the man’s mouth had moved when he said it that made Castiel want to see it again.

So Castiel lingered, one foot still ahead of him as his own mouth refused to function, his mind too scattered to repeat the sentiment back. “Oh. I, ah… have…You’re – nice.”

The man chuckled with a soft noise. His head tilted a bit, exposing the left side of his lean neck and highlighting the light dip where it met his shoulder. “Well, uh, thank you, sir.”

Castiel had the most awful feeling that his cheeks were beginning to flush, an action they hadn’t performed since the very first time someone expressed interest in him, back when he was young. “Yes.”

There was a pause as the young man seemed to study Castiel, a surprising amount of intelligence seeming to shine through – blue? green? hazel? – eyes as he did so.  “Yes.” Still giving Castiel the same soft smile, he introduced himself. “I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Winchester.”

Castiel silently wrote the name down in his memory, mentally repeating it a few times before he remembered that introductions were typically mutual, shifting forward. “Castiel Novak. It’s very nice to meet you, Samuel Winchester. …Sam.”

“Nice to meet you too, Cas,” Sam grinned a bit as he spoke, eyes twinkling as he straightened up and lifted his head slightly, the new position allowing more of the sun to shine down on features that Castiel could only describe as striking. “You come around these parts often? Just – out of curiosity; I don’t think I’ve seen you.”

If Castiel hadn’t definitely known much, much better, that nickname with that specific question would have almost come across as _flirtations_.

“Ah, no, I do not,” Castiel answered honestly, planning to end the sentence there but his own tongue betrayed him. “Well, at least, I haven’t – at this moment in time… Perhaps? Well, wait, no, actually, I…” He clamped his mouth shut willfully, shifting his weight once again as he mentally cursed his own foolishness.

Sam let out another chuckle but quieter. If Castiel’s damned mind had thought of Sam’s words as coquettish before, Sam’s simple response to his rambling only fueled it. “Pity.”

“I could start,” Castiel blurted out suddenly, before quickly trying to rebound. “I mean to say, it’s good to know one’s own city well. I should pay more attention to what it has to offer.”

“It’s got one or two things, here and there.” Sam made eye contact with him again, that same intelligence shining from them directly into what felt like Castiel’s soul, and Sam’s words were what Castiel thought could only have been an open invitation and – no, don’t go there.

This was not an invitation, it couldn’t have been, and yet Castiel could feel the unfamiliar sensation of his heart beating against his ribcage at a faster pace, a feeling he hadn’t had since he’d come home from studying abroad. He found he couldn’t peel his eyes away again. “I can see that.”

Oh, good God, no.

What a fine time to consider carving out his own tongue, for his own sake. His brothers would be so glad to hear of this decision.

That is not what he meant to say, except it was because he’d been looking right at Sam,  _and that makes it worse, you fool_  – and there was definitely a thing in this area that made this area worth it, but now Sam would realize Castiel’s thoughts and would no longer want to talk to him further.

Instead of looking at Castiel oddly or retracting immediately from the conversation, Sam only ducked his head a bit as if embarrassed – that couldn’t be right – and lifted it and oh, why was  _Sam’s_ face tinged pink? Castiel raised his head towards the sky. Ah, right, the sun. Heat. That made more sense.

A brute force collided with Castiel’s back and propelled him forwards a few steps, his top hat being knocked off of his head and onto the stone path. Castiel lifted his head up to see the back of the large man’s head who’d bumped into him walk away, leaving in a rush of air that ruffled his coat. Then he looked around, remembering what he was actually doing there, as well as the fact that he was taking up space on the narrow walkway.

He straightened his coat lightly, then started to reach down to grab his hat. Long, nimble fingers beat him to it. He blinked, watching as Sam picked it up for him, even going so far as to brush it off, before standing and holding it out with a slightly crooked smile.

Sam was as tall as his legs had earlier predicted.

Castiel took the hat, setting it back on top of his head. “Ah, yes. Thank you. It’s unwise to perform a business meeting without a good hat.”

Another amused huff, followed by, “That’s true.” Sam reached up, tipping his own cap just a bit in agreement. “Speaking of, I should let you get back to that.” A pause. “It was nice talking to you, Cas.”

“Yes. Yes,” Castiel replied quickly with a sharp nod. “Er, I mean to say, it was nice talking to you too, Sam.” _Please talk with me more._

He studied Sam’s eyes for a mere moment, blinking when the younger man before him held out his hand. It took a moment for his mind to catch up with the action, clearing his throat as he extended his arm to accept the handshake. He could feel the warmth of Sam’s hand as their wrists lifted and fell in unison; he almost cursed himself for choosing to wear gloves.

He fidgeted after their hands released each other’s, before giving a polite smile and another tip of his hat, forcing himself away before his tongue could spit out another humiliating statement. His face was heating up too much for his liking for him to check over his shoulder, but he almost thought he could feel Sam’s eyes on him. He almost wanted them to be.

He shook his head once he turned the corner of the street as if to shake away the image of Sam’s face burned into the back of his head. His hands reached up to fix his collar, lifting his head up high as he grew closer to his destination. No more distractions.

Mr. Crowley’s bearded expression was scrunched with indignation when Castiel finally arrived at his dimly lit office. “You’re late, Mr. Novak.”

Castiel had the decency to look shamed for a brief moment, nodding slowly as he let one of the servants take his coat and hat. He pulled out one of the two chairs in front of Crowley’s sleek wooden desk, sitting down gracefully without invitation. “Ah – yes. I apologize for my tardiness.” He offered a thin, considerably unapologetic smile. “I’ve been having a rather nice day.”

 

 


End file.
